Things I can not say out loud,
The scary thoughts, vague assumptions, endless questions,
They get clogged in my throat.
Choking me, literally.
I wake up with a swollen throat,
Hard to talk,
Hard to swallow.
Will I be here after October?
Will I get to celebrate Halloween with you?
Thanksgiving? New Year's?
Then the throat gets worse.
Can't breath.
The idea of not being here with you,
I am choking.

Then I see you sitting next to me.
I reach out,
Tell you I am fading.
You run to the drugstore,
It's pouring,
But you sprint anyways.
When you come back,
It's not just the medicine that aids my inflamed throat,
And inflamed thoughts,
It's you.
Talking to you,
We let the worries disappear into thin air.
We turn the question marks into kisses.
As I take another sip of the warm liquid with painkillers,
The worrier in me fades away,
And I am finally breathing.